Stinging Tears

I was standing designing library signs on the computer.  All of a sudden I burst into tears.  Well not really burst, no one knew I was crying, but I felt like I had burst.

It started with my eyes stinging and then some deep breathes and face getting all scrunched up.  I realized at that point it was too late to keep it under wraps and I went into the office and shut the door.  The office was dark, but one wall is all windows that face the library.  I positioned myself between the door and the wall in a shadow so no one could see me falling apart.

I stood for a couple of minutes silently with tears running down my cheeks.  Inside my brain was battling was this really necessary for me to be crying in the first place and how much further and animated was this about to go?

While I was pulling a paper towel from the dispenser to wipe my eyes I began to sob.  Sobbing is heart breaking even for the person doing it.  When I was young I would let it all hang out and make as much noise as I felt necessary.  Now days I hardly ever cry, but when I do it is as quietly and reserved as I can manage.

Silently sobbing, my chest heaving and drying my eyes lasted a few more minutes until I felt I could move on and begin to recover.  I put my glasses back on trying to disguise some of the red face.  It’s always my red nose and lips that give me away.

I preach to everyone that a good cry is usually beneficial.  It wasn’t today.  It was horribly emotional and physically painful.

I haven’t written in a while because I have been completely up to my neck in getting a divorce.  It’s really happening this time.  My sweet narcissist husband started his old tricks last night of twisting my words and making veiled threats.  I was doing really well until I realized that he still has hold of me in a PTSD sort of way.  I fell into his trap and said a few things I had sworn I would not say as to not make things worse than they already are.  I was supposed to be laying low and silently suffering the way I had learned to after years of this treatment. I’m still kicking myself for not being able to hang on to my cutting words.

It was feeling overwhelmed today and not having anyone to talk to about it is what set me into tears.  I realized that I wanted to talk to my mom.  She was good for that.  She listened to me for years about him and always made me feel tough and fiery.  She didn’t give great advice, but she listened and was completely on my side.

For the first time in almost two years I missed her.  Two years since I’ve talked to her. It hit me hard that she is dead.  And realizing I needed her for that made me start thinking of the other things I miss.  Honestly, I just feel like hell today.


Can Housework Fix a Broken Marriage?

I talked to my psychiatrist today. He asked how my relationship with John was going. I started to tell him and then it dawned on me that I haven’t really thought about it lately. Has it happened again? Has he lulled me into a false state of security? I started to panic and blame myself for being so stupid again, but then I said to myself, “It’s okay. “

I’m still not wearing my wedding ring. I still have the divorce papers filed. I still haven’t planned our vacation in July. I may have started to enjoy the new John because he is being very nice, loving and patient, but I cannot forget that it won’t last. It has only been 6 weeks since he said he will go for therapy. He has gone twice.

I am very suspicious that he isn’t telling his therapist the whole story. After his first visit I was asked to write two things that I would like John to do. I wrote a paragraph about how he treats me and the family. The first thing I wanted him to do is to treat us better.

John came home with a chore list from the therapist. Not a chore list of things he should work on, but a list to organize his family to do chores, literally chores. Cleaning the bathroom, kitchen etc. She must have been told by John that this was the whole reason for our problems.

Misguided Rage

What I realized this morning is that the rage I’d been waiting for wasn’t coming for me at all. John had to have some release, but he has too much too lose to rage against me at the moment because of the big D hanging above his head.

I knew it was coming. It didn’t dawn on me it could be for Tristan.  I can handle it, was even looking forward to it in a strange twisted way so I could finally move on. That’s what I figured I needed for the final “sayonara sucker”.

I was woken up at 11:30 last night to John showing me the texts he had been sending to Tristan that were going unanswered. I knew Tristan was at work until a 2 am doing inventory. I knew he had taken the old Subaru because he couldn’t find the keys to his car. John did not know any of this, until he showed me the ranting texts and I told him. Ten in a row about not believing he was at work, the car being stolen, going to call the police if he didn’t answer the texts. Oh, God, it went on and on. Nothing new.

He hasn’t been for the therapy yet. It’s been a week. I’ve got to come up with a time frame for this to happen before I give him the divorce papers.

He’s going to be home in a few hours. How do I act? I feel a bit sick.

The Last Thing I Would Have Expected….

I was already to leave.  I had my mind made up, part of me felt really good and then the unexpected happened. I started talking to John about what I thought would be the 4th and final “I want a divorce” talk. You know what he sprung on me? Therapy. He said he would go to therapy to keep me! Not couples therapy, but therapy for him!

Unfortunately, according to what I’ve read, this is right on cue for a narcissist. He’s been “love bombing” me all weekend. This is what they do when they are faced with abandonment.

I don’t think it will last. He can usually only keep the nice guy routine up for a few weeks, if that. The difference is this year I am not going to get sucked back in, I’m not falling for it again. If the therapy doesn’t work I’ve got all my ducks in a row .

I am keeping the papers filed and am continuing with the divorce process.  I guess I’m playing both sides of the fence. I want to see if the therapy works.

So many emotions today. Disappointment. Apprehension. Suspicion. Strangely no relief or happiness with this new turn of events.

My Divorce, Step 3

I don’t know how I’ve been lately. It’s kind of a state of being in the past, present and future all day long.

The past is full of bad memories of being bullied into a Vegas wedding, moving to North Dakota and getting a second job to name but a few.

The present is full of resentment for the past, cringing when I see his car in the driveway and dreading when he gets home.

The future is full of fear, dread and a happiness I’m afraid I shouldn’t be feeling.

Today it’s fear. I signed the papers. 26 year marriage over in 15 minutes.

I walked out to the car afterwards. At the door I almost started to cry and then I said out loud,

“Buck up! This is what you’ve always wanted”.

My Divorce, Step 2

So I asked him for a divorce, well, sort of.  We went out to lunch and I brought up our relationship problems.  I said I think it is time to get a divorce.  And it just kind of got lost in the conversation. I didn’t want to push it. I was completely drained of courage just bringing up the subject.

I didn’t blame or tell him the real reason I want a divorce. That would just start an avalanche of accusations and blame on me. It never works to confront a narcissist with their bad behavior. They just end up turning it around on you, no matter how bizarre or untrue it is.

We talked about being unhappy, not having anything in common, etc. and after lunch we went to Cosco.

Is that the way all divorce conversations go?

Ice Tsunami

I haven’t asked for the divorce yet.  I am waiting for the right time, but I have the same steely resolve.

I can’t stop thinking of the last two decades of bullying and tears. The old memories keep flooding in.  It’s like the phenomenon know as an “ice shove”, when ice from a lake or ocean surges forward onto land.  The ice is my memories anmaxresdefaultd they have been shoved to my door step where they can no longer be ignored or tolerated.

It seems like there are thousands of stories and they keep popping up in my mind all day long.  It has to be done. I have to be free, once and for all.